A Shadow Stained Scarlet
by silverleavesk9
Summary: Agatha thought she would live in the dark forever. But, as she is drafted for the Ogre Wars, the Dark One gives her another chance. As she trains as his apprentice, she and Baelfire hatch a plan for reuniting father and son. But that little plot will bring them deeper into the unknown realms, and the Faeries are always watching...
1. Chapter 1

Before he came, everything was peaceful. Before he came, everything was normal. Before he came, she didn't even expect that she could be useful, especially to him.

It all started with a nonchalant knock at her door. Her flustered grandmother, withered hands wringing together nervously against her patchwork apron, went to answer it. Agatha heard a gasp as she opened it, with the protesting squeal of wood scraping wood. Crouching in the back of the cottage, she wondered who it could be.

"What are you doing here?"

"Surprised to see me?" asked a dreadfully familiar voice. "We had a deal, dearie."

"I don't make deals, especially not with the likes of you," she answered stubbornly.

"Your daughter did!" he answered gleefully. "Where is she?"

"Who?"

"Your granddaughter," he said.

Agatha felt her heart quicken, and she pressed herself against the wall, feeling trapped.

"I'm the only one here," her grandmother answered bravely.

"I can tell when someone's lying, dearie," he said, the rasping voice deadly calm.

"You're not taking her anywhere until you tell me what's going on!"

An unnatural, high-pitched laugh sounded. "Your daughter made a deal with me. She sent me to get revenge for the murder of her husband, and she would give me her only child." Agatha saw the man slowly circling her as he talked. "I've held up my end of the bargain, and I always expect payment."

"How do I know you can be trusted with her?" Her grandmother had been slowly turning to keep him in sight.

"I give you my word." He made a mocking bow in front of her, but she still eyed him suspiciously. "I've heard tales about you, Rumplestiltskin." He grinned."My reputation precedes me!"

"Don't think that it hasn't!" she replied more forcefully. "I know what you're about! You're going to go back on your word!"

"If you're so sure about that," he turned to face her, "why don't we let the child decide for herself?"

Agatha's grandma appeared agitated, her eyes darting all around the room, not daring to look at the Dark One. "Alright," she said slowly.

Her heart beating like a frightened animal, Agatha stood and made her silent way into the prescence of the two. "I'm here," she announced, darting a quick glance at Rumplestiltskin, who waved a hand dismissively. "Leave us," he commanded. Her grandmother squeezed Agatha's hand once, then shuffled obediently to the back room where they slept.

"Let's skip the pleasantries. You already know who I am, as I do you," Agatha said, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you want of me?"

"Well, dearie," he started circling once more, "a little bird whispered in my ear that you," he pointed with a grin, "have magic."

She immediatly gasped, unwilling and uncomfortable sharing her secrets with strangers, especially this one. Just his prescence made her uneasy, his clothes, the circling as if she were prey, his eyes, good Lord those eyes...

"You look surprised, dearie," he mused. "But then again, most people are. Oh yes, I know everything that goes on in this land. I even know about you, Agatha."

She shivered at the thought of her secrets now. _He must already know._ Then..."How could I be of any use to you?" she asked.

"So you do have it? Interesting," he purred. "It's simple really. I take you on as my apprentice, and if you survive, you," he gestured with a flourish, "will become the Dark One."

Agatha drew herself up. "And if I refuse?" She knew the probable consequences.

"A deal is a deal, dearie," Rumplestiltskin stopped in front of her, "and if you refuse," he leaned forward and lowered his voice, "your life will pay handsomely."

Her heart beat so loud that she wondered if he could hear it. "I...accept." _What have you done?! _her conscious screamed in her head. _The right thing, _ she replied.

He let out a maniacal laugh. "Excellent!" He went to the door, then turned back."I'll be waiting," he said then vanished in a cloud of scarlet smoke.


	2. Chapter 2

_She felt rough hands grab her arms, and looked up disbelieving as the soldiers dragged her forward. _

_"She's not ready!" she heard someone say even as she struggled in their iron grip. _My mother, _she thought. _

_"Nonsense!" she heard a harsh voice say. A face loomed before hers, a man with a poorly kempt beard. "She'll be a fine soldier." He sat atop his horse in armor, sneering. _

_"Let me go!" she cried._

_ "And a real fighter too!" said the one on her right arm. _

_"Save your fighting for the field, sweetheart," the left one said. He pawed at her chest and she twisted away. _

_"Enough of this!" her mother cried out. She rushed forward and stood in their way. "Agatha's just a child," she pleaded. _

_"So is every one of our new recruits," the leader on the horse grinned. He gestured to the few people they had rounded up. "The law still stands, and more soldiers are dying. We need young blood if we are to win the Ogre Wars." _

_"Then the law is wrong," her mother said. _

_The leader thrust his sword point an inch away from her throat. "I'm almost tempted to skewer you, woman, if you question us again!" _

_"Mother, I'll be fine," Agatha called. "I'll come back. Just let me go." _

_The mounted soldier laughed. "Do as she says," he muttered, then gestured to the right one that was holding her. "She can ride with you," he called. They mounted their steeds, and left the village, leaving their loved ones behind, heading into Fate's embrace. _

_They rode through the day across rolling hills and meadowland, then stopped to make camp for the night. The nameless soldier whom she had rode with lifted her down, gently touching her feet to the ground. "Thank you," Agatha said even as he lifted his helmet off. She gasped. His bright green eyes sparkled in a handsome face. He looked a few years older than she did. _

_"You're welcome, though I don't know what for. It isn't a deed that needs thanking, toting children off to war. Happened to me as soon as I turned fourteen." _

_"Did you fight too?" she asked. _

_"Yeah, but it got me nowhere, although, I had the oddest feeling that there was someone watching me besides my mother and the soldiers." _

_"Did you ever find out?" _

_"No," he answered, "but it was like nothing I'd forget in a hurry."_

_"I wonder who it was," Agatha mused. She shivered suddenly. _

_"Do you feel it too?" he asked. _

_She nodded. "Whoever it was is here..."_

_ "Let's go to my tent," he suggested. _

_"I'm not here just for the amusement of the male soldiers," she laughed. _

_"Yeah, well, the chief decided you need watching over, so like it or not, you're stuck with me." He grinned, a look of comic mischief on his face. _

_Agatha smiled for the first time since her parents had been killed. "I just hope you have a sense of respect for women," she muttered. _

_"Don't worry," he laughed, and wrapped a cashual arm about her shoulders, "if there's one thing I know, it's to never cross a woman's path, especially an angry one."_

_Agatha saw the whole camp as the soldier, who was named Gwaine, led her to his tent, which was on the camp's far side. "Thank you for the tour, Sir Gwaine," she smiled as she made a curtsy. _

_He bowed. "It is my pleasure, Lady Agatha." _

_"So you were listening," she teased as Gwaine led her into the tent. "Are you...?" she asked as she sat on the bedroll. _

_"Am I what, fair lady?" _

_"Are you a Knight of the Round Table?" she asked. _

_"Oh, no. Far from it, actually. But I am a knight, and I'm trying to be one." _

_"Then I wish you best of luck," she said. _

_Gwaine smiled, then ducked outside. "You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight, if you wish," he called. After she had changed, she stood outside so he could get dressed._

_ "Gwaine?" she called after a minute. _

_"Yes?" came the answer._

_ Agatha had heard some twigs crack, and an sudden cold feeling came upon her. "He's here," she whispered. _

_Gwaine came out and put a protective arm about her. "It's alright, Agatha. I'll shut the tent tonight, and stand guard while you sleep."_

_ "But what about you?" _

_"I'll be alright . I'll even stand inside if it puts your mind at rest," he said softly. As he led her inside, she glanced fearfully at the dark forest that surrounded them until Gwaine pulled the tent flap shut._

_The night passed sleepless for Agatha. She kept looking up, only to see Gwaine's shadow and hear him say, "All is well, my lady. You may go back to sleep." _

Who could be watching us? Is he an enemy? _she kept wondering. She was cold, despite a warm brazier blazing in the front of the tent. _

_Finally, she couldn't pretend any longer. She got off the bedroll with the blanket wrapped around her, and crouched before the brazier. _

_"Are you cold?" Gwaine asked. _

_She nodded, her flesh prickling with goosebumps. He came and sat beside her. _

_"This is not natural cold," he mused, fingering his sword hilt. "There is something magical at work here." _

_"Who do you think it is?" she asked shakily. _

_"I have a hunch, but I can't be sure," he answered. _

_"Who is it?" she pressed_

_Gwaine sighed and looked at her, one side of his face and dark hair in shadow. "I think it's the Dark One."_

_ Agatha gasped, her heart beating in her chest. _

_"I can see you've heard of him," he said grimly._

_ "What would he want here?" _

_"More importantly, what could he want with you?" Gwaine mumbled. _

_"What?" Agatha asked, just as she heard a voice that was not Gwaine's speak. "Well, well, what have we here?" She whipped around with a gasp. A shadowy figure was sitting in a corner. "You've done well, Gwaine," the thing said. _

_"Who are you?" Agatha asked_

_"I am Rumplestiltskin," the figure answered, as he leaned forward. "I am the Dark One. Have you not heard of me, dearie?" _

_"She has," Gwaine answered boldly. He stood up and brought his sword hissing out of its scabbard. "Unless you want me to alert the camp, you will leave," he said darkly. _

_Rumplestiltskin laughed. "If you don't fulfill your deal, then you will be sorry, dearie. No one breaks a deal with me, and you know exactly what I came here for." He stood and startrd toward them. _

_"How do I know you won't hurt her?" Gwaine asked. _

_"I always keep my word," he emphasized with a flourish. "The Round Table awaits." _

_"Gwaine," Agatha stood, "why?" _

_"I'm sorry," Gwaine answered, then left. She saw a tear trickling down his cheek._

_ "What do you want?" she asked, turning to face him. _

_He gave a wicked grin, which looked ghastly in the firelight. "I simply want my end of the bargain," the Dark One smiled, walking slowly around her. "And it seems I got something far more precious." He reached out his hands (if one could call them so) and caressed her cheeks, cackling as she shuddered. She got the uncomfortable feeling that he could see right through to her soul. "But I'm willing to give you one more year." He snapped his fingers, and a funnel of red smoke enveloped them. _

_When it cleared, Agatha was standing in front of her cottage. She looked around, frightened. "Gwaine?" she called out. When there was no answer, she dashed into the cottage and shut the door._


	3. Chapter 3

Agatha's grandmother pressed her for details until she felt the story as wrung out as a dry cloth. "Oh, that horrible..._creature,_ to think that he can take you away, even after..." She fell silent. "Grandmother?" Agatha asked, edging closer to the well - worn rocking chair. "What did he do to you?"

She rocked back and forth, her head in wrinkled hands. "Not to me, child, but to your mother." She sighed heavily and looked up, her bright blue eyes bloodshot from crying. She clasped Agatha's hand in hers. "It was some time ago, not long after your father was killed by bandits. Your mother was sick with grief, and she was desperate enough to ask _him_ for help. He got revenge for your father, and in return," she teared up," he asked for her firstborn when the child had turned fourteen. Then he killed her for trying to steal from him." Her grandmother started sobbing. Agatha was shocked, but instead of grief, she felt a rage, subtle as a smoldering fire.

Agatha frowned suddenly. She hadn't told anybody about her connection with Gwaine, nor had she seen him since Rumplestiltskin spared her for another year. _Better now than never,_ she decided. "Grandmother?"

"Yes?" She looked up again, bleary-eyed. "What is it?"

"When I had been taken by the the soldiers, I met this one...He called himself Gwaine. He watched over me during the night, and he was certainly different than any soldier."

"Agatha, you foolish child, what were you thinking?!"

"But, Grandmother-"

"What have I told you about men?They're only after one thing, especially that lot that toted you off-"

"But, he's a knight, a noble one! He defended me from Rumplestiltskin!"

That got her attention. She stared up at Agatha, shocked. "You were almost captured by that..._monster_?"

"I nearly was, but he let me go. Haven't you ever wondered why I was allowed to stay for another year?"

"And this...Gwaine, stopped him?"

"Nearly, but Rumplestiltskin said the Round Table awaited him, and he gave up fighting."

Her grandmother was in a rage. "How dare he? He's no more fit to be a knight than that scorcerer is to kiss my boots!"

"Grandmother, it was his dream to be a knight!"

"Oh yes, and being a knight that flees a fight when a lady's life is a stake will most definitely get him into King Arthur's court!"

"But, Rumplestiltskin's the most powerful in the land! You can't really blame Gwaine."

"I can when the lady is my own granddaughter!" The fight seemed to go out of her at last. She slumped back in her chair. "What did Rumplestiltskin want?"

"He wanted me to become his apprentice, and if I don't, he'll kill me," Agatha nearly sobbed with fear. "But I have to go. I owe it to Mother's memory."

"I can't let you, Agatha. You're all I have left of your mother. I may never see you again!" she cried, lurching up from her chair.

"But, he'll find me for sure, and he'll kill me or torture me, or hold me prisoner forever!" she yelled. "I just have to!"

A sudden change came over her. Her eyes became distant, her lids heavy. She placed her hands on Agatha's head. "You have my blessing, Agatha." She sat in her chair, staring into the fire. "Goodbye, Grandmother," Agatha said as she kissed her cloud of white hair. All that one could hear was the crackle of the fire, and the squeal of a door closing.


	4. Chapter 4

A full moon sat hunched on the horizon, a silvery old man slowly shambling across the sky. Somewhere nearby, an owl hooted. Tendrils of mist snaked their way through the forest. Suddenly everything her mother said seemed true. Agatha drew her cloak around her, as if it could protect her from night terrors.

Her thoughts went back to Gwaine, Rumplestiltskin, and the odd cast of characters that had visited her the past year. The night suddenly seemed alive with possibilities. One time, Agatha thought she could speak to animals. She could hear the trees whisper to the wind, and she would see sprites and forest people like her mother had told her about. If she truly had magic, what was to stop the Dark One from seeing it?

H_e said he'd meet me, but where?_

"Are you lost, dearie?"

She flinched, and turned slowly around. "Not at all. I was just confused as to where I was supposed to meet you."

He smiled and crept closer. "Then you have made your choice." He lunged forward suddenly and grabbed her wrist, then pulled her close, until their faces were mere inches apart. "Just remember, dearie, I intend to have my prize, whether it is your life, or your services." Releasing her, he let out a cackle.

Agatha was shaken, then took a hasty breath and tried to compose herself. "Again, how could I be of any use to you? I'm not even sure I _have _magic."

Rumplestiltskin leaned against a tree like he had all the time in the world. "If you're not sure, then show me."

Agatha tried to concentrate on anything but his predatory gaze. She closed her eyes and called on the power within her, channeling it where it wanted to go. She thrust her hand out, palm up. She opened her eyes, which glowed golden. A ball of fire appeared in her hand. Levitating a rock with her other hand, she brought the two together, sealing the fire inside. Then she drew it out and extinguished it.

"Interesting work, dearie," Rumplestiltskin stood and walked around her once, then stopped. "An even rarer form of magic. However did you get it?"

Agatha straightened up and announced, "I was born with it."

"And who was responsible for that inheritance? Your mother?"

"No," she answered quietly. "My father."

"How unfortunate," he said. Then he waved a hand. "We shall continue your training tomorrow, when the sun's setting." He started along a trail, then looked back. "Well?"

Agatha was confused. "Where are we going?"

"Why, to your new home, dearie," Rumplestiltskin cackled at the shock on her face. "Did I not mention it was forever?"


	5. Chapter 5

Agatha had always been the most important thing to him. Even now, he watched her following a dark, shadowy _something_ through the woods, occasionally looking around, trying to see a way out. She was frightened, that much he could tell. Her aura was a jumble of emotions, a web of thoughts, but the fear-scent won over all.

He turned his attention to the thing she was following. It was human, alright, but there was something clouding about him. His aura was a void of darkness and magic, which he pulled about himself like a thick cloak. It was impossible to cleary read his aura, but there was one thing he could feel: trapped. The thing was trapped, a slave to the darkness that had taken root in him until it flourished into a far-reaching shadow that kept the surrounding land pinned by fear beneath his heel.

He straightened up, looked quickly around, then continued following them at a distance, a silent, ever-watching shadow.

...

Agatha kept her distance from Rumpelstiltskin. There was never a good ten or so paces between them. He moved in and out of the trees with a cat's stride, disappearing for some moments entirely as the shadows moved across his dark figure. She didn't dare run away. She had accepted the deal, and there was no turning back, but nevertheless she had a sense of ever-growing fear, like a deer in plain sight of the hunter.

Suddenly a vision struck her, making itself known, though she, out of fear, had buried it in the deepest recesses of her mind. She could feel scaly hands stroking her face, and the voice that had haunted her every night for the past year. _It seems I got something far more precious. _What had he meant by that? Was it her ability? Would she ever know? That hateful voice jerked her out of her thoughts.

"Here we are," he grinned, waving a hand at a cottage overgrown with ivy, creepers, and all manner of vines. "Make yourself at home, dearie." His reptilian eyes followed her as she strode past.

She opened the door, muscles tensed for whatever horror or conjurer's trick that might leap out at her, but there was nothing. She peered around the door, then gasped in surprise. It was just a cottage both inside and out. She was shocked to find the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms living in a place that was so..._human. _A merry fire burned in the hearth at the back. There were a few tables around the perimeter of the room, and little bottles that looked like medicine were stored on it. As she wondered why the famed Dark One would need medicine, she saw that there were books of all sizes and scrolls stacked haphazardly against one wall. Then her attention got drawn to the table in the middle.

A lamp burned, and it lit up a pile of black curls slumped next to it. A chair was occupied too. The pile turned over, and she saw the face of a boy about her age. He stirred as Agatha walked into the room, making the floorboards creak. There was another creak as Rumplestiltskin shut the door.

"Papa?" He moaned and sat up, rubbing his neck with one hand, his black eyes blinking blearily. He looked at Agatha. "Who's this?"

"This is our new maid, Bae," Rumplestiltskin answered. "I thought you were asleep, son."

Agatha had been told nothing about being a maid, but really, what was the difference? She nodded silently.

"I was waiting for you," Bae answered.

"Very well. Get some sleep now."

But Bae looked at Agatha. "What about-"

"I'll take care of her," Rumplestiltskin said, holding up a hand.

Her heart pounded, and she tried to get the fear off her face, remove its clutching claws.

"Come with me, dearie," he gestured toward the door. Her eyes met his, and she felt he could see straight to her soul. She walked quickly through the door and looked around. Spotting a building even smaller than the cottage, she walked toward it a few steps, then turned.

"You'll sleep there tonight," he started to walk back, but then turned. "And trust me, if you try to run," he reached out his hand and placed it on her neck, squeezing a bit to let her know who had the power, "I'll know about it." Letting her go, he went back to the cottage.

She ran to the building, found it full of straw, dimly remembered seeing a spinning wheel in one corner of the cottage, and cursed when she couldn't find a lock. _Oh Gwaine, if only you were here. _Removing her cloak, she draped it over the straw, and settled into a disturbed and troubled sleep.

...

Her dreams were frightening, her sleep light. He passed a weary hand over his eyes. A battle was beginning, a battle between light and dark magic. He sighed. If only the Eldest were here. They would know how to fix things. But for now, he would have to be content just to watch her, and occasionally send her messages through the forest, and the animals. Soon she would discover her legacy. Soon she would become one of them.

...

"Wake up!"

A male voice was calling her name, and it wasn't Rumplestiltskin's. Agatha jerked upright and scrambled away when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay! I'm not going to hurt you!" It was the boy the Dark One called his son...Bae.

"How do I know you're not just like him?" she snarled.

"Because I'm different. I just want him to change!" He sat down in front of her. She could tell that he was being truthful.

"Do you have magic?" she asked.

"No. Like I said, I'm different than he is. I just want my father back." He held out a hand. "And it's Baelfire."

She shook it. "My name's Agatha." Then she was skeptical. "What did he mean when he said, 'new maid'?"

Baelfire opened his mouth to answer, then she heard Rumplestiltskin's voice calling from the cottage. "Bae! Where is she?" She instinctively backed against the wall, feeling trapped yet again, despite her brave interactions with him in the past.

"Coming, Papa!" He turned around to face her. "He killed our last maid." Then suddenly he grabbed her hand, a desperate look in his eyes. "You said you have magic?"

"Yes, but I don't think it's powerful enough to bring him back."

"Then what are you doing here?" he asked urgently.

"He's training me to become the new Dark One."

"Bae!"

"Coming!" He stood up, still holding her hand. "We have to go, or he'll get suspicious, and I don't want him to hurt anybody else."

"You really think he can change?" Agatha asked, pushing the door open.

"It's the only way," he answered stubbornly.

"Then I'll try to help you in any way I can," she said resolutely. "On that you have my promise."

...

Despite her training with Rumplestiltskin and her new tasks as his maid, Baelfire came every night to the straw-filled building, either out of pity or friendship, or both. She quickly got used to him coming and going. And he, in turn seemed to develop a friendly bond with her.

"This is getting out of hand," he said one night as he entered, a distant look in his eyes. "He just gets worse and worse with each day!"

"So I noticed, " Agatha mused, leaning against a bale. "I hate to tell you this, Bae-"

He leaned forward as he sat, his eyes not quite focused. "What is it, Agatha?"

"-I don't think he'll ever change," she whispered.

Baelfire snapped his head up to look at her, his eyes blazing. "No! He has to! Part of him is still good!"

"I know that, and you know that too! It's just that! You're the reason he doesn't give in, at least not completly! Don't you see?! He does it for you!"

"Don't you think I would know that by now?! He tells me so nearly every single time I bring it up! He collects all the power he can because he wants to protect me!" He slumped forward onto the straw, trembling hands pressed against his face. "Believe it or not, he wasn't always like this," he mumbled through his fingers. "When he got the power by killing the Dark One before him, he wanted to use it for good. He stopped the Ogre Wars, and brought all the children home. But then it was like the power was controlling him instead of the other way around."

"And then he started changing," Agatha said solemnly.

"Yes."

"So what are we going to do?"

"_You _aren't going to do anything. Not yet, at least."

"Baelfire, please," she said, clasping his hand. "I want to help."

He sighed, resting his chin on his fists. "Keep training with him and see if you can find a way. There may be someone who can help us."

"Who?"

"The faeries. They'll know how to bring him back."

"But, Rumplestiltskin's the most powerful sorcerer in all the realms! My grandmother told me so!"

"Parents lie," Baelfire said, looking at her. This time he was focused. "I should know."

"But who will go and look for them? Your father rarely leaves you, and I must stay here. My life depends on it."

"Your life will be a short and miserable one if we don't do something!"

"But the Blue Fairy-"

"I wasn't talking about her."

"Then who-" Then it hit her. Her ability, her inheritance, no Blue Fairy was responsible for that...

"Have you heard of the Darkling Forest?" Baelfire asked.

"Yes, but that's leagues from here, on the other side of the mountains!"

"But that's where the Darcotta are!"

"But they're monsters! Bae, you must be joking."

He stood and began pacing, then turned back to her with a look akin to a smile. "I won't be going there, and neither will you, but I think I know just the person we can send..."


	6. Chapter 6

"What ails you, dearie?"

Agatha's hands shook with the strain of the force that moved through her. She turned her face away from the Dark One. "Nothing."

"Then stop thinking! That is not how magic works." He placed himself beside her and eased his arms up to her shoulders, sending shivers creeping down her back. "Magic is created through emotion." His long, scaly fingers moved down her shoulders and she shivered, gooseflesh prickling her arms. Fear coursed through her at the sight of his hand moving across her skin. Here she was, a peasant maid, and the darkest of all conjurers was her mentor and captor! Her fingertips tingled, and she felt her eyes light.

"Good work tonight, dearie!" Rumplestiltskin whispered in her ear. She moved away from him as she surveyed the fire she had encased in water. She rubbed her shoulders, trying to wipe away the chill that always seemed to accompany him. Then Agatha looked at him, and was rewarded with a cold smile, ghastly as always. His face sent her sprinting to the straw building.

...

"Agatha?"

"Hmmm?" She looked into Baelfire's concerned face.

"Is something wrong?" His brown eyes, willing her conscience forward, jarred her into speech.

"Oh Bae, your father...he's just so frightening!"

"It's alright. He made a deal with your mother. He won't harm you."

"You actually _trust _him?"

"I trust him to keep his word," he said. He passed a hand over his forehead. "If there's one thing that's trustworthy about Papa, he always does what he promises."

Agatha decided to change the subject, since she could see she was treading on dangerous grounds. "Have you sent him the message?"

"If anyone can do this, it's a knight," he answered. He smiled at her. "Especially your knight in shining armor."

...

Agatha had trouble going to sleep, and the lute didn't help. It sounded as loud as if the player was in the shack with her, but at the same time far away. Its haunting melody, lonely and sad, kept worming its way through her brain as she tossed and turned, trying to force it out, plug her ears, etc. But it was persistent, and at last she threw off her cloak and tiptoed to the door.

She pulled and pulled, but it wouldn't budge. She knew it didn't have a lock, so she figured Rumplestiltskin had put a spell on it. Something compelled her to hum the tune with the unknown artist, and miraculously after a few bars, the door opened. She snuck out, shut the door quietly, and started toward the sound.

Soon she came upon a lady, not five years older than herself, sitting on a stone in a small clearing playing a lute. Agatha found herself drawn forward, as did the crowd of assorted animals gathered at the lady's feet, sitting around the folds of her midnight-blue dress. When the music ended, the animals scattered, and the lady turned toward Agatha. She had night-black hair that hung down her back in long waves, and an angular face, dark blue eyes, and pointed ears, not unlike Agatha herself.

"Greetings, Agatha."

"You know me?" Agatha was unsettled at the thought of this charmer knowing her.

"But of course," she replied. She held out the lute. "You were drawn to this, were you not?"

"Yes," she answered. "How did you know I would be?"

The lady laughed. "You may call me Serina. And I know about your passion for music because I know you."

Agatha gasped. "My mother had that name, and yet, you look much like her..."

"My dear, don't you see?" She laughed, and the sound was music itself. "I _am _your mother."

...

Agatha stood there, not bothering to name the emotions that raced through her. "But my mother's dead! Rumplestiltskin killed her!"

"Oh, that old fool," Serina waved her hand dismissively. "So your grandmother said. Oh no, Agatha, contrary to your belief, I am very much alive."

"But, how? If you are her, how did you survive?"

"It's quite simple, actually. Magic can often become a web, a trap for its master. Since that serpent has become ensnared, he may think that he is controlling it, but the power is controlling him. He had already gone too far when he tried to kill me, and he very nearly succeeded. But," Serina said, "I belong to the Faeries, and their magic is more than a match for him."

She stood up and moved to stand beside Agatha, half a head taller than she was. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, she led Agatha to the stump on which she had perched. "Now, Agatha, tell me, I can see the Mark on you. You have been touched by darkness, my child."

"Rumplestiltskin took me as his apprentice," Agatha said, shivering as the memories returned.

"And how are you doing as his maid?"

Agatha looked at her mother incredulously. "You knew about that?"

"Oh, yes. The Faeries have always been watching you." Her head whipped around at a crack in a nearby bush. "Speaking of whom..." She marched over to the bush, reached inside, fished around, and dragged out a whimpering boy by the ear, a few years older than herself. "Ow ow ow ow OW!" Seeming indifferent to his protests, Serina dumped him unceramoniously at Agatha's feet.

"Well, your highness, as first impressions go, you can't get any better than this," he complained, rubbing his ear. He sprang to his feet and made a graceful bow. "Nyx, at your service, Lady Agatha."

"He always was a charmer," Serina murmured. "Explain yourself, Nyx."

His mouth hung open and he put a hand on his chest, looking insulted. "Why, my lady, I was merely making sure your daughter was safe all this time, especially with the Dark One! But what do I get for my troubles? A pinching and a dirty rump! Hmph! You should be thankful indeed, what with that Rumplestiltskin prowling about!"

"Just how much did you hear?" When Nyx didn't answer, she raised her hand and started muttering a spell.

"Alright, I'll talk! All of it. That's the truth, it is, seeing as I _don't_ want to be a mouse again. Most humiliating!" he said, brushing himself off.

"That it is. And thank you for being honest with me, Nyx." Serina turned to Agatha. "This young man has been entrusted with the task of keeping you safe from harm, Agatha. I trust he's fulfilled his purpose?"

Now that she thought about it, Agatha did remember feeling a presence nearby all her life. "Yes, he did," she answered. Looking at Nyx's slender frame and smooth black hair, she thought he was handsome indeed.

"There, you see? The lady says so!"

"Maybe you can come with us, as long as you have time before _he _notices," Serina said, turning to Agatha.

She looked at the sky. It was getting light. "I really mustn't," she said sadly. "But maybe I can come tomorrow night?"

...

Storybrooke

Vivian took a deep breath and blew. Her long fingers moved quickly over the keys as the music, sad and lonely, spilled out the bell. Each note wrapped around her soul, compelling her to play a little louder. With the final note left ringing in the air, she packed up her clarinet, humming the tune she had played.

...

Vivian had always been an odd girl. She had pointy ears, and an angular face, so when she had read the _Lord of the Rings_ she had often fantasized that she was an elf, like those in Middle-Earth. She had also been found abandoned at the side of a highway, with no property to call her own but the battered clarinet case that had been found with her, and when no one had claimed her, her mother had been pronounced dead. She had spent fifteen years wondering if her mother and father loved her, regretted leaving her, or if they even lived. So here she was, an orphan in a strange but small town called Storybrooke, with nothing to call her own but the clarinet and an old notebook she had borrowed from the fifth grade teacher, Mary Margaret.

She sighed as she made her way to Granny's Diner.

...

"Hello, Vivian," Granny said, welcoming her in an embrace.

"Hey, Granny," she said as she walked to a booth and sat down, placing her clarinet beside her. Taking out her notebook, she wrote a few sentences before she sensed something. Looking up, she saw a young man with black hair and coat staring at her. She smiled politely as he sat in the booth across from her.

"Whatcha writing?" he asked.

"A story about a better place," she answered, glancing up. "Why?"

He made a visual inspection of her belongings, then shook his head. "Is that all you have, kid?"

"My name's Vivian, and yes it is, Mr-"

"August. Just August," he replied, glancing at her book. "You like to write?"

"Yes. Why?"

"Well," he leaned forward, "I just happen to be a writer myself."

"You have a job here?"

"You know, you ask a lot of questions, Vivian. I don't have a job here, but I have a place I can do it. And really, the only requirement of having a dream..."

"...is believing in it," she finished. "My English teacher told me."

"Your teacher's wise," he commented. He held out a hand. "Would you mind if I edit it for you? Being a fellow writer, I think it's best if you let people know about your work, rather than hide it."

Vivian held it close. "But it's not finished!"

August laughed. "All the more reason for me to edit it! The least I could do is give you some pointers."

"Fine," she said at last, pressing it into his hand.

...

As Vivian made her way to the little cabin in the woods she called home, she thought about August, and about the people of Storybrooke in general. Most people avoided her, and she had precious little friends in high school.

When she thought about the town, there were only three places she found intreresting. The library, where she regularly devoured books by climbing in through a boarded up window, the alley, where she ususlly played music, and Mr. Gold's pawn shop. This last one, oddly enough, she felt right at home in. Mr. Gold was rarely there, and if he was, he didn't show himself. She felt like she stepped into another world when she paid her regular visits.

The trinkets, lamps like genies were kept in, and the million other odds and ends kept her amused for hours on end. Often she would bring her notebook, make a list of things she liked, then brought it back to her cabin to incorporate them into her stories. In the past year, she had gotten more courageous, despite what people said about him, until she worked up the nerve to enter, like an unlikely knight entering a dragon lair.

...

She was in the middle of jotting down a list in the pawn shop when she heard a wry voice say, "I've already done inventory, Miss Vivian."

She turned around, trying not to flinch. _You'd think you'd hear him coming._ She just smiled and said, "Please excuse me, Mr. Gold. This is just for some work I do."

He walked around the counter and stood a few paces from her, smirking. "And what manner of work would that be, dearie?"

"I'm a writer. Well, I plan to be," she replied nervously.

"And you use my displays for what, exactly?" Mr. Gold leaned on his cane, twisting it in his fingers.

"For inspiration," she answered, her eyes on the cane.

"I see," he replied, looking her up and down. "I would think you get enough from the woods, or perhaps those books you borrow." He looked at her face intently.

"How did you know?" Vivian was taken aback.

"Well, dearie, this is a small town. News travels fast, and it isn't long before I hear of it. And you," he chuckled darkly, "your beloved teacher told me everything. She was particularly intent on your love of reading and music. One look at the library, and it isn't hard to put two and two together."

"You mean-"

"Considering the fact that if she hadn't told me, I would have cut off the money going into your education, and she couldn't bear to see that happen."

"And you wanted to know this because-?"

"You see, dearie, breaking and entering into a building is a crime. So, under law, I am authorized to turn you in."

"Wait, turn me in? But I haven't done anything wrong!" she snapped.

"Wrong as in having an illegal residence outside of town? Wrong as in breaking and entering for the past year?"

"I'll quit hanging around your shop, if that's what you mean," Vivian replied.

"I meant that you should go back where you came from," Gold said.

"Don't we all want that?" Vivian shot back.

"Who are we talking about?" Vivian turned around and came face to face with August. He had an almost concerned look in his eyes as he glanced between her and Mr. Gold.

"Nothing that concerns you, Mr. Booth," Gold replied cooly.

"Business?" August asked with a hint of accusation in his voice.

"Do you happen to know this girl?" Gold gestured to Vivian.

August appeared to be struggling with himself mentally, but then he answered, "I do know her. Why?"

"She has broke into the library for the past year, and she has been using an illegal residence out of town."

"I didn't take anything! And I brought the books back! As for living in that cabin, it's better than being in the foster system!" she protested.

"I am truly sorry, Miss Vivian, but it's for the best," Mr. Gold said with false sympathy.

"Or," August said, pondering, "she could come stay with me."

"Mr. Booth, I appreciate your concern for Miss Vivian, but this is a matter of personal business," Gold said. "She should be taken to the sheriff right away."

"I'll walk her down, and let the sheriff decide," August said, hustling Vivian out the door. Vivian looked back with real fear at Mr. Gold. He smirked and watched her until the door closed.

...


End file.
